Page 31 of Wolf Bane (Marked #3)

Chapter Thirteen

T he sun had barely considered peeking over the horizon when Ethan woke me with a kiss to the back of my neck.

“Oh really?” I gruffed, tired in a way I knew sleep would barely touch but definitely interested in what he was suggesting.

His smile against my neck tickled. “Really.”

I started to turn in his arms, but he held me fast, though not so tightly I couldn’t get free if I wanted to.

Nodding, I scooted back against him, the hard length of his morning wood slipping through my cleft, bumping against my balls as we just held still for a long moment.

Then, he rocked his hips just a little, and that’s all it took to wake me up.

It wasn’t a wild and passionate coming together after days—weeks, really—apart.

And it wasn’t life-affirming movie sex. It was us , moving in the weak dawn light, the sounds of a neighbor rattling trash cans and someone’s dog barking in the distance overlaying the rough breath and soft gasps as we moved together.

Ethan’s hands, broad and strong and a little rough, splayed across my chest and stomach, holding me tighter now as he moved faster.

I wiggled my good arm free, reaching for my own erection as he buried his face in my neck and breathed me in.

A little shifting, a wiggle, and his leg was over my hip, making the channel for his cock a little tighter as he pressed me down and into him.

I stroked myself faster, gasping when his hand closed over mine.

Not directing, just feeling me as I brought myself off, his thumb slipping out now and then to brush over my damp cockhead.

It was messy, lazy, and perfect when he came first. The spill of his hot release between my thighs was the final push for me to reach my own end a few minutes later.

He bit down on my neck, right where it met my shoulder, when I panted his name, gasping my release.

Add a little feral to the list, I thought.

I never knew if it was an Ethan thing or a were thing, the way he’d sometimes bite down on my neck just enough to feel risky, not enough to really hurt.

Like he was marking me, claiming me even though he knew I was already and always would be his.

Hm. Maybe it was a little more life-affirming than I’d thought.

After a few sticky minutes, when things got too uncomfortable and gross to stay snuggled up on damp sheets any longer, Ethan moved away to get a washcloth as I scooted towards the other side of the bed, pulling the sheets with me to wash later.

The dog stopped barking and someone started up their godawfully loud truck.

Morning in semi-rural Texas. I smiled to myself, feeling weirdly relaxed, all things considered. In a little bit, the wheel would start churning away again and I’d be neck deep in the bullshit, but for now it was an ordinary morning.

Nice. Safe.

Ethan handed me the cloth and took the sheets.

We shuffled around, getting ready for the day with a quick breakfast and a large pot of coffee as the laundry got started and showers were taken.

It wasn’t until I was scrubbing my hair dry that I thought to plug in my phone, retrieved from Benoit by Ethan.

I made a mental note to ask Tyler to check it over and make sure no one had done anything to it.

Grabbing my phone out of habit and opening the messaging app, a scrolling litany of messages that had arrived overnight appeared: Reba, Tyler, Reba, Reba, Reba, Reba, Tyler, Tyler…

Easily two dozen in just a few hours. There were so many voicemails my box was full, and a video message was waiting for me from Gina Perrin.

“This can’t be good…”

Ethan wandered into the bedroom, frowning at his own phone. “What the hell happened between two a.m. and ten minutes ago?”

“Other than us having sex? I don’t know if I want to know or not.”

He turned his phone so I could see the screen. More calls from Tyler, from some names I vaguely recognized from his time as sheriff, and from Cullen. So many from Cullen.

“Well shit.” I sighed. “Alright, cover me, I’m going in.”

Most of Reba’s messages were demands to call her no matter what time it is, Landry . They slowly escalated to panicked all caps WHERE ARE YOU? and IF YOU ARE DEAD, I’LL KILL YOU texts.

My stomach twisted into a knot. Definitely something bad. I checked Tyler’s messages next. More of the same with some requests for Ethan to call him mixed in: If he’s with you and not dead on the road somewhere .

Jesus.

Gina Perrin’s video was last. It had arrived less than an hour ago and started with just a weird angle of her face.

I realized belatedly she was holding the phone face-up at chest level as she walked, her hair swinging over the camera with each step.

Finally, she stopped, out of breath, and looked down at the camera with a deep, worried frown then held it up, turning it so I could see what she was looking at.

The clinic.

The front windows were smashed in, scorch marks all over the outside of the building and the storefront next to ours.

She carried the phone closer, until someone gruffly ordered her to stop where she was.

“I work here,” she said, voice muffled. “I’m recording this for the doctor who runs the clinic. ”

The video cut off. I didn’t realize I’d sat down until Ethan gave my shoulder a little shake. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “I’m driving.”

* * *

Gina Perrin was still at the clinic when we arrived.

She was bundled in a long sweater against the morning chill, staring at the mess of the office space.

Reba was pacing nearby, literally wringing her hands until she noticed me, then she sprinted over with a speed I’d never expect from a woman wearing Isotoner slippers on a scrubby old parking lot.

“Oh my God,” she sobbed, flinging her arms around my neck. “I thought you were dead in there, Landry!”

Gina Perrin closed the distance between us, offering Ethan a tight, wary smile that didn’t reach past her lips. “They couldn’t get hold of you, so they called Reba. Reba called me. I called Cullen.”

Reba pulled back, eyes wet and nose red. “Why did you call him? He’s just the lab rep!”

Ethan stepped in before Gina Perrin had to spin a yarn. “Well, he’s on the contact list, right?” he offered smoothly. “Easy mistake to make.”

Reba frowned, glancing between the three of us with a slow shake of her head. “No? Not really? I mean, what’s the lab liaison going to do? Oh my God, all of that equipment!” She spun to face the clinic, clutching at her jacket. “Landry, what are we gonna do?”

That, at least, I could answer. “The owners already know.” Which was true, if Cullen knew then the council knew.

Thank the powers that be we took the samples back to the house.

“We just have to wait and see what they say. What happened? Was it…” I trailed off, my gaze catching on something bright red.

Mongrel .

Sprayed between the door and the waiting room window. A single word in red paint. It wasn’t a tidy graffiti tag but hastily done, angrily done.

Mongrel.

“Jesus,” I muttered. Ethan moved beside me, clasping my hand in his. A little too tight, honestly, but the bite of pain as my knuckles pressed together kept me from completely losing my shit. “Clan?” I whispered. “The ones who hate me?”

Ethan’s jaw was so tight I worried for his dental health. “I want to say no, but…”

“But yeah.”

One of the sheriff deputies waved me over, so I left Reba and Gina Perrin, Ethan trailing beside me as I headed over. He introduced himself as Wisher and seemed to know Ethan, at least knew of him anyway. “Sheriff,” he said with a nod, then blushed. “I mean. Mr. Stone.”

He nodded back. “Deputy Wisher. Haven’t seen you in an age.”

Wisher ducked his chin again and nodded. “Just started here about a month ago,” he admitted. “Nelvin wasn’t too thrilled, but, uh…” He trailed off with another shrug, looking way too young to be in possession of a firearm much less the ability to make life or death decisions with it.

Ethan made a thoughtful but noncommittal noise low in his throat. “Well, if you need any advice or anything, I’m in the book.”

Wisher’s brows crunched together. “What book?”

“Uh. Phone book,” Ethan muttered. “Before your time I guess.”

I barely managed to swallow a bark of laughter, instead turning to a bemused Wisher. “I was visiting folks out of town yesterday and didn’t get back in till around two this morning. When did this happen?”

“Around two,” Ethan muttered. “The fire trucks last night.”

Wisher nodded. “That’s when the first alarm went off. Um, Doctor Babin, Sheriff Nelvin wants to question you himself. He, um. He seems to be concerned that you were out of touch for the incident.”

“Oh, good lord,” Ethan muttered.

Wisher nodded again. “Yeah. Um. So, I can ask you some questions, but it’s not official, okay?”

“Where’s Nelvin now?” I asked. “Because I need to make some calls myself and start the process of… whatever needs to be done, I guess insurance? Is that who I need to call?”

Wisher glanced around, waving at one of the firefighters still on the scene.

They were poking around inside, looking for hot spots apparently, and didn’t seem in very much of a hurry.

He came over and filled me in on the damage: water, smoke, some vandalism inside.

Filing cabinets and computers broken open, my office specifically trashed.

“You’ll need to go through and take inventory of what’s missing, if anything, and what’s damaged.

Insurance will demand an accounting, as will the clinic owners. Speaking of…”

Ethan to the rescue again. He held up his phone. “I’m in a conversation with one of the owner’s reps right now. They’ll be down this afternoon. In the meantime, what do we need to keep the site secure?”

Wisher cleared his throat. “Me and Smythe will stay on site for the shift, then you’ll need to arrange for security until everything is boarded up.”